A Thankful Heart
by Hogwarts Duo
Summary: A Thanksgiving story based on a Chelsie anon prompt. CarsonxHughes. How do they celebrate the American tradition at Downton Abbey? Will it lead to revelations?


**A Thankful Heart**

**A/N: **A prompt from the Chelsie Anon inspired this story.

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL … ALL ACROSS THE GLOBE!**

Charles had never been comfortable with Lady Cora. After all, *she*, was an *American*. She brought her rough accent and brash ways, along with this perverse tradition of sitting down to table, family & staff, *together*. Thanksgiving she called it, a time to give thanks for a plentiful harvest, hmph! The only thing plentiful in this house lately, was tragedy, and he said as much to Elsie over a quiet glass of sherry as they sat together in her parlor to discuss the planning. What happens next?

"I have to agree with you, Mr. Carson. Sitting down to a meal with the family will be quite different, and while I'm not opposed to her Ladyship planning a small in-house party similar to the Christmas Ball, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this dinner."

"I do not believe it, Mrs. Hughes. You're agreeing with me for once? Wonders will never cease!" He topped off her glass and poured himself another sherry. "So, what are we to do about it, then? She has her heart set on this grand dinner with all of us sitting around the same table, sharing a meal and small talk. I dare say she couldn't have broached the subject with the Dowager Countess. Mrs. Crawley, I'm sure, will be in love with the idea," he grumbled with exasperation.

Elsie placed her glass on the small table and looked down at her hands. "I wonder, though, if we're not being selfish. What if we're simply afraid of the idea because it is out of our ordinary, not our usual routine? I'm sure some of the staff might enjoy the change."

"Elsie Hughes, are you saying that you're changing your mind when you sat there no more than a minute ago and agreed with me?" Charles furrowed his brows and straightened himself in the small chair he occupied. "I thought we were going to face this problem together, head on, and I could count on your support. I thought you were on my side."

She looked up and caught his eyes, giving him a sad smile. "When will you learn, Mr. Carson, that I am always on your side? You simply made a point I hadn't considered before now. I'm trying to put myself in Mrs. Crawley's shoes ... and Her Ladyship's ... even Lady Mary."

"What's Lady Mary got to do with any of this? It wasn't at her request we're contemplating this ... this ... farce of an idea."

"Perhaps it is." Elsie boldly reached across the space separating them and took one of his hands in hers. "Remember what I told you at the beginning of the year about old wounds and healing? I was correct, then, and I believe it's time we all took a healthy dose of the same medicine I forced on you."

He looked down at their joined hands and covered her much smaller hand with his, enveloping her hand in strong warmth. "I don't follow. How is one dinner going to put old hurts and pains to bed once and for all? And just what exactly are we talking about? I thought I was following your logic but you seemed to deviate from our path."

She stood and walked over to his desk, searching for something in earnest. "Where is it? I thought for certain you'd keep it here?" She abandoned her search of his desk and scanned his bookshelves, the other nooks and crannies of his office, searching in vain for one small object. "Did you move it upstairs, then ... to your room, perhaps?" she asked softly.

"What? Move what, exactly?"

"Her photograph? The framed photo I gave you a few days after Grigg left and that whole ordeal was put behind you. The photo of Alice, where is it?"

Charles felt his cheeks warm and the tips of his ears start to burn. "Oh, that, well, um, yes, it didn't feel right keeping it down here, on the desk, you see. I took it upstairs and remov- packed it away." He surveyed her reaction and quickly added. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed it missing before now."

Elsie stopped suddenly and stared at him as if he'd just slipped into a foreign language. "What do you mean you ... why would I do that? And why would you move it?"

He shrugged. "I simply didn't want the constant reminder of Alice, of another time and place. Dwelling on her, on things which never were, would do no good. I don't believe that would help me. She is the past, you see, the past. She's dead now. She made her choices, and I made mine. And life goes on."

Despite being hurt that he would take her gift and relegate it to a cupboard or trunk in his room, she had to agree with his logic. She had hoped that by giving him the framed portrait, he would think on his past with some fondness, seeking out the happy moments, the times when he laughed with Alice or shared a thrilling moment with her. Deep down, Elsie was slightly jealous of Alice Neale and the hold she'd had over this man for decades.

Pulling herself together and focusing her thoughts once more, she finally found the strength in her voice to answer him. "That's just it, Charles," she answered, using his Christian name. "For some, like your Lady Mary, and to an extent, Mrs. Crawley, life isn't going on. They're focusing on all the things Mr. Matthew isn't here to witness, all the times in the past they shared with him. Maybe, Her Ladyship was trying to focus on the happy moments in the house instead of all this sadness, these dark clouds which seem to have hovered over us since Lady Sybil's death."

"I think I see what you mean. I'm sure the upcoming Christmas and New Year holidays will be especially hard for Lady Mary."

"And Mrs. Crawley. She was his mother long before Mary was his wife. And at least she has their son to focus on, while Mrs. Crawley will be rattling around her house all alone unless the family invites her to stay here for the holidays." She softened her voice and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "She will be all alone for the first time in so very long and it will surely be lonely for her. Perhaps that's what Her Ladyship was trying to avoid by inviting everyone to the dinner. She's trying to do something different to avoid all the pitfalls of memories and the past."

He took a deep breath and sighed, resigned to the fact that he had just lost his battle and there was nothing left to do but surrender. "Very well, Elsie. What do we do to make this as painless as possible for some of us and enjoyable for the rest of us without upsetting our employers?"

"I don't know, yet, but I'll try to think of something between now and my meeting with Her Ladyship in the morning. For now, though, Mr. Carson, I think it's time to turn in for the evening. It's been a long day, and you'll want to be at your best tomorrow."

He placed the used glasses on the small tray and moved it to the center of his desk, intent on dealing with those items after breakfast. He switched off the lights and closed the door behind them. As they reached the top of the stairs, to the point where they must part for the evening, he reached down and took her hand in his. "I want you to know something. I moved the photo of Alice, yes, but please don't think ill of me. I had ... have ... good reasons, which you may not understand. One day, I may be bold enough to share them with you, but for now, just please, know that the gift was accepted with a grateful heart and is not languishing away in a dusty corner."

She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. "It's late, Mr. Carson, and we're tired. I assure you I am not upset. We'll retire to our beds, sleep, and wake with a plan to see this Thanksgiving meal to a successful end." She dared to reach up and cup his cheek, reveling in the warmth of his skin, the slight stubble of his face, giving it a tender caress with her fingertips before retreating beyond the door that separated the men from the women, separating her heart from his.

It had been a restless night for Charles Carson. He could not escape the hurt he saw in her eyes upon hearing of the fate of the photo and frame. He did not wish to close his eyes and forget the tenderness with which she stroked his cheek, the strength of her fingers as they squeezed his arm, the blueness of her eyes as an idea began to take shape in her mind.

Still, he greeted the dawn like an old friend. He washed and dressed quickly, anxious to get downstairs to start this day, to see her. She said she would have a solution and he desperately hoped she was successful. There was something unnatural about the notion of a servant sharing a meal with the members of the family, something that went against every fiber of his being. He knew that, if asked, he would be forced to oblige but he knew there was no way he'd be comfortable. He would be miserable, work himself into a nervous state, and spend the rest of the evening in his room with a blinding headache.

"Goodness, Mr. Carson! You don't look well this morning," Elsie Hughes said as she greeted the butler of the house. "Did you not sleep well?" She leaned in a little as she poured his tea into the little cup. "Worrying about something in particular?" she teased.

"Why should I worry, Mrs. Hughes? I know a very intelligent and crafty housekeeper who assured me last evening that she would have a plan this morning." He leaned in a little closer and slid a slice of buttered toast onto her plate. "And have you a plan this fine morning?"

"You'll have to wait to find out, won't you, Mr. Carson? My meeting with Her Ladyship is at ten o'clock, but by that time, you'll be busy with the wine delivery. So, I suppose you'll simply have to wait until you have a moment to spare."

It was nearing quarter to noon when Elsie finally dropped into her chair in her office. Her mind was still in a whirl from the conversation she'd just had, but she was overall pleased with her outcome. The idea Lady Cora had regarding her planned Thanksgiving feast would go ahead as planned, though slightly altered thanks to Elsie's intervening. She hoped Charles would be pleased with the concessions she'd made on his behalf, well on behalf of every hall boy and maid in the house. She was sure none of them would be pleased or comfortable sharing a table with the family.

"Well, is it done? What happened?" Charles slipped into her office and closed the door behind him, brushing some dust from his shoulders while waiting on her reply. "I hope you have good news for me. Otherwise, I may have to break out a bottle of wine before I ring the dinner gong," he joked.

Elsie motioned for him to sit down. "You won't be thrilled, but you won't be devastated, either. I tried my best to explain things from several different perspectives. First, I tried the approach of the logistics. It would not be possible for everyone to eat at the same time. Someone must prepare the food and serve it to those invited to dine. She countered with a buffet style luncheon in which we all serve ourselves then eat our meal together."

Charles groaned, cringing inside at the thought of serving a buffet style dinner as they had managed when Mrs. Levinson has visited. "You said first, so I'm assuming there's more to the tale?"

Elsie nodded. "When that failed to really make an impression upon her, I pointed out that the Dowager Countess would be in attendance and, at best, she would spare no words for the staff or family. I explained that it would put several of my maids and your footmen ill at ease if they were to be asked to take a meal in her presence. Their table manners are fine for downstairs but I'm not sure a dinner with her mother in law would be a wise idea." She watched Charles nod his head in agreement. "She countered with the idea that people wouldn't be required to truly socialize with one another, though that would, of course, be ideal. The maids and footmen could mingle with each other, as could the family, if either side wasn't comfortable."

"At which time you pointed out that if we were going to break apart into groups, we might as well eat our meals separately. Brilliant idea, Mrs. Hughes. I knew you could ..."

"Not so fast, Mr. Carson. This is my tale and I'm telling it so please, patience to the end, thank you." She smiled as she watched him shift uncomfortably in the chair. "That, my dear Mr. Carson, was when your lovely Lady Mary joined the conversation and suggested that you, Mrs. Patmore, and myself join the family while the rest of the staff ate their meal separately."

Charles gasped and his eyes widened larger than Elsie had ever seen, causing her to smile. "Surely, you must have heard wrong. Lady Mary would never suggest such a thing. Mrs. Crawley, certainly, but never Lady Mary!"

"Oh, but she did, Charles Carson. She did and she was as sober as a priest when she said it. Otherwise, I wouldn't have believed my own ears either." She let her words sink in, watching as the panic began to rise within him. "That was when I craftily suggested that it would not be wise for the heads of staff to be absent from a meal. One of us could be spared but certainly not all three. And before you ask, they did suggest giving you the afternoon and evening off so you could join them, but in the end, I convinced them that I had an alternative idea, one which would allow everyone to remain within their stations yet celebrate the holiday as Her Ladyship wished."

That was when Charles felt the wave of relief flood over him as Elsie explained her idea. He had to give her a great deal of credit. She had been very skillful in her arguments and had thwarted the seemingly inevitable with ease, and he wasted no time in telling her so. "Elsie Hughes, I cannot believe it. You are truly remarkable, and this entire household owes you a huge debt which we'll never be able to repay."

"Goodness, Mr. Carson. I didn't do anything so spectacular. I merely offered a more practical solution to the original idea. I'm sure you could have mastered a plan of your own if you'd had the time and a drive to do it."

"You flatter me, Mrs. Hughes, and I thank you for that." He stood and took her hand in his as he bent and pressed his lips to the back of her hand, leaving her face flushed and warm, not a single word upon her lips.

Thanksgiving Day finally arrived and the plans had been carefully laid by Mrs. Hughes and Cora Crawley. The two women had worked together to ensure that everything was prepared and that everyone understood. Even the Dowager Countess, despite her earlier grumblings, had decided to participate in the festivities, much to the surprise of her family.

Downstairs, Charles Carson took his place at the head of the table, almost mirroring his employer upstairs. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "In America, they have a tradition called Thanksgiving. I trust you are all familiar with the reason behind the celebrations so I won't need to give you a history lesson. However, you may be wondering why we have chosen to celebrate the holiday in this house this year." He looked around and saw a few of their staff members nodding their heads. "Her Ladyship felt it would be nice to celebrate the tradition from her homeland, and she asked that we participate as well."

Elsie stood and handed everyone at the table a slip of paper while Mrs. Patmore placed a large glass bowl in the center of the table. "You are to each take a moment to write down one thing for which you are thankful, then place that paper in the bowl. When everyone is finished with their meal, Mr. Carson will read them aloud, and we will pause at the end for a moment of silence to think on the things we each hold dear to our hearts. Then, as a special treat, you will all be excused for the rest of the day."

"Yes, His Lordship has graciously offered to pay for movie admission for those who wish to venture into town for the matinee. For those wishing to remain behind, for whatever reasons, you will be given an extra sixpence in your pay. The choice is yours entirely, though I will be making a list of those attending the movie this afternoon."

Excited chatter reigned in the servants hall for a few moments before Mr. Carson cleared his throat and everyone settled once more. For the next couple of moments, the only noise to be heard was the scratching of pencils across the paper and the scraping of chairs as people rose to place their thanksgiving slips in the container. When everyone was finished, Carson rose and began the Thanksgiving feast for his staff.

At the end of the meal, Carson stood and asked Mrs. Hughes to hand him the papers one by one from the bowl. Elsie would take the paper, open it for him, then hand it to him, pausing between each one. The most common comments were thanks for their jobs, their family, steady wages, good employers, and even Carson and Mrs. Hughes's names were mentioned in one or two of the remarks. As Elsie removed the last paper from the bowl, she realized that something was amiss. She'd counted the heads at the table and the slips of paper. One was missing, and she knew the culprit who had intentionally excluded himself from the activity. Even Thomas had found something for which to be thankful, though it had surprised her to find her name listed on his paper.

After seeing everyone off with a stern warning about behavior and not taking advantage of the generosity of the family, Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Carson retired to his pantry for a glass of wine and a chat. Mrs. Patmore has decided to take a break and go along with the staff to the movies, something of a rare treat for the cook.

"You, Mr. Carson, have some explaining to do," Elsie said as she gave him a piercing look.

He has the bad manners to look confused, trying to pretend as if he had no idea to what she was referring. "Ah, well, you see a very long time ago … 1620 I believe, a group of people left Plymouth on the Mayflower …"

"I do not need a history lesson, Charles Carson. I am very well aware of the events surrounding the Mayflower and the Speedwell, thank you very much." She fixed him with her piercing gaze, one which would usually have a housemaid spilling her darkest secrets and confessing to the housekeeper. "You know very well what I'm referring to."

He sighed heavily. "I do, but I assure you I have a very good reason for not placing my paper into the bowl."

"But I saw you write something on your slip. You stood and placed it into the bowl, yet when I handed you the papers, yours was missing."

Charles grinned and produced the paper from his pocket. "You mean you _think_ you saw me place the paper into the bowl." He showed her the little white paper held securely between his index finger and thumb. Then, he advised her to watch closely as he moved an empty wine glass to the center of his desk. "Now you see the paper … now you don't," he said with a flourish and a quick movement of his hand.

Elsie stood utterly amazed at his sleight of hand. She hadn't blinked, yet she could not deny that she had missed his trick. "But how … I saw … you …"

"I learned many things during my time on the stage, Mrs. Hughes. Remind me to show you my juggling skills one evening," he teased.

She laughed and added a second empty wine glass to his desk, motioning for him to open the bottle. "Oh, I will. You can believe I won't let you forget that any time soon. But that still doesn't answer my question. Why?"

He took her hand in his and placed the bit of paper in her palm, then closed her hand about it. "I am and always have been a very private man, Elsie. While I am thankful for many things in this life, there is one more important than all of the others combined. I simply did not wish to share that with anyone."

She looked down at her hand then back up into his face. "Are you sharing your gratitude paper with me, then? If you'd rather I didn't read it, I will understand. I didn't realize your reason. I'm sorry."

"I'm sharing it with you and you alone, for now," he said softly. "Go on, please read it." He turned his back and opened the bottom right drawer of his desk, removing the picture frame Elsie had given him months ago. He watched as she read the paper, then as realization dawned on her face and her hand flew to her mouth to contain her gasp. "I wasn't ready for everyone downstairs to know that out of everything in my life, Elsie, I am most thankful for you." He took a step closer and handed her the photo frame, the photo inside long gone. "I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to ask for you to accompany me into the village on Saturday. I would very much like to take my sixpence and pay to have a photo taken of you so that I can place it in this beautiful fame for my desk."

Elsie smiled up at him and began vigorously nodding her head. "Of course, I will accompany you, Charles. But you must agree to have your picture taken as well. Better still, why don't we have our photo together? We could get two copies made. You could have one for your desk and one for mine?" Elsie held up a second piece of paper. "You're not the only one who has the ability of stealth when necessary." She handed him the paper and watched with baited breath and he slowly unfolded it and read the words she'd written."

_I'm thankful I had the wisdom and patience to wait for Charles instead of settling for another way, another life. One day, I hope to tell him how very much I love him and need him._

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips, surprising them both with his boldness, silently giving thanks for Her Ladyship's idea which led them to this moment and all the sweet ones to come.

**The End.**

**A/N 2: A special thanks to the other half of Hogwarts Duo and CrazyMaryT for reading over the story and reassuring me that I need not change my middle name to "Cheddar." Hugs and thanks to you, both!**


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